


wider than a mile

by absolutelithops



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Exy (All For The Game), Canon-Typical Violence, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Probably some angst, bc i am self aware, but im gonna go ahead and justify it by saying theyre older and have lived different lives, im also gonna go ahead and tag this as, manic pixie dream neil, mild renision, once again its breakfast at tiffanys but with more gang violence, self-indulgent breakfast at tiffany's au, the characterization is a little wack
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-29
Updated: 2021-02-05
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:36:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27271303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/absolutelithops/pseuds/absolutelithops
Summary: They’d given Andrew the wrong key.He slammed on the buzzer for the person in the apartment below his, again, and again, and again.He was dead tired, and his stupid flip phone was just plain dead, so he couldn’t even call Roland to get his key fixed.  Andrew pressed the buzzer again.  He was standing in front of the shitty apartment building with everything he owned, and, although it wasn’t much, he really wasn’t in a forgiving enough mood to deal with someone who might try to take something.Finally, a voice that sounded just barely awake came through the intercom.“Hello?”“I’m moving into the apartment above you, but my key doesn’t work. Let me in,” Andrew said.His neighbor paused for a moment, until, finally, he said,“How do I know you’re not a dangerous criminal?”It was a joke, Andrew could tell by the challenge in his voice.  He hated this place already.“Dangerous? Yes. Criminal? Not unless you don’t let me in.”“Yeah, yeah,” said the neighbor, audibly yawning.  Andrew heard the door unlock and quickly gathered his things.
Relationships: Allison Reynolds/Renee Walker (All For The Game), Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard
Comments: 36
Kudos: 230





	1. Chapter 1

They’d given Andrew the wrong key. 

He slammed on the buzzer for the person in the apartment below his, again, and again, and again.

He was dead tired, and his stupid flip phone was just plain dead, so he couldn’t even call Roland to get his key fixed. Andrew pressed the buzzer again. He was standing in front of the shitty apartment building with everything he owned, and, although it wasn’t much, he really wasn’t in a forgiving enough mood to deal with someone who might try to take something. 

Finally, a voice that sounded just barely awake came through the intercom.

“Hello?” 

“I’m moving into the apartment above you, but my key doesn’t work. Let me in,” Andrew said.

His neighbor paused for a moment, until, finally, he said, 

“How do I know you’re not a dangerous criminal?” 

It was a joke, Andrew could tell by the challenge in his voice. He hated this place already.

“Dangerous? Yes. Criminal? Not unless you don’t let me in.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” said the neighbor, audibly yawning. Andrew heard the door unlock and quickly gathered his things. 

The building was old and lacked an elevator, which meant Andrew had to drag his things all the way up to the fourth floor. 

His apartment was half decent, with a living room, kitchenette, bathroom, and bedroom, which had large windows that connected to a fire escape that went down the side of the building. The view from the bedroom window was that of the dingy brick of the building next door. It was, admittedly, nicer than anything Andrew would have been able to afford for himself.

Andrew fished through one of his suitcases until he found his charger, and, upon plugging his phone it, was only mildly surprised to find that nothing happened. If he couldn’t call someone about getting his key fixed, he couldn’t leave the apartment. If he couldn’t leave the apartment, he couldn’t get food. He had no way of knowing when Roland would show up, either. 

Ergo, he would have to borrow someone’s phone. He’d already bugged the neighbor below him once, and decided that a repetition would do nicely to limit the number of future interactions. Andrew had hoped not to establish his presence at all, but, that plan failing, he was content to at the very least establish himself as a menace.

Andrew had only knocked on the neighbor’s door four times when he answered. Andrew had been fully prepared to take as little note of the man as possible, but unfortunately Andrew’s neighbor had an appearance that could be kindly described as striking. He looked younger than Andrew, although not by much more than a year or so. He was also taller than Andrew, which could be said of most adults. He was pretty in a way that was the first thing you noticed, which would not have been so remarkable if not for what it was up against. The right half of his face was adorned with several thin, raised lines that made it look like someone had used him as a cutting board. A decent portion of his left cheek was the pink, textured surface of skin that had been badly burned. Somehow, the sorry state of his face did not detract from his appearance. If anything, it added just another layer of intrigue to his bed-muddled auburn hair, sharp blue eyes, and a smile that looked like it was used to being milked for all it was worth. So yes, Andrew took _some_ notice. 

“I need to use your phone,” Andrew said. His neighbor leaned against the doorway, and looked Andrew up and down like he could figure out everything he needed to know. Everything he needed to know consisted of exactly nothing, of course, but Andrew was sure whatever his neighbor could come up with would be laughably and inconsequentially incorrect. 

Sure enough, the man ended his examination appearing more confused than when he started. There was, at least, some small victory in that.

“You’re the dangerous not-yet-criminal who now lives above me, I’m guessing,” he said. 

“I need to use your phone,” Andrew repeated, just in case his neighbor was hoping to have a conversation. His neighbor tried again to get a read on Andrew, at which point Andrew figured he’d be better off asking someone else than dealing with this bullshit. He turned to walk away, but his neighbor, seeing him turn to leave, finally answered his question.

“You’re welcome to use my phone if I can find it,” he said, stepping back into his apartment and gesturing at Andrew to come inside. No sooner had Andrew reluctantly crossed the threshold when a bright orange tabby cat climbed off of a book-shelf and onto his shoulders. 

“Christ, King,” his neighbor said, grabbing the cat off of Andrew’s back and setting it down on the floor. 

The apartment was set up almost identically to Andrew’s, except that it was, somehow, more barren. There seemed to be less furniture, and most of it was pushed against the wall so as to leave a large open space in the middle of the living room. There were a few articles of clothing strewn about, and a couple of boxes in the corner. There were no decorations of any kind, save for a calendar on the wall, which was set to June, which was three months ago.

“How long have you lived here?” Andrew asked. His neighbor was overturning couch cushions, presumably searching for his phone. 

“Two years,” he said. With every passing second Andrew was becoming more and more certain that his neighbor was a walking disaster, and likely some sort of junkie. He was wearing a faded t-shirt of some college sports team and a pair of grey sweatpants that had certainly seen better days. It seemed that, by every indication, he had just woken up. Andrew hadn’t been able to check the time in a while, but it was certainly somewhere close to 4pm. 

“I’m just going to go ask someone else,” Andrew said, turning and almost tripping on a gray cat that had been sneaking behind him.

“Just hold on, it’s around here somewhere,” his neighbor said, now looking through his kitchen cabinets. Andrew gave up and sat down on the couch, keeping an eye out for anything that might indicate what type of person his neighbor was. 

They gray cat hopped up onto the couch. It sat out of Andrew’s arm’s reach, watching him carefully. 

“Wow,” his neighbor remarked, looking underneath the couch, “she usually hates people, myself included.”

“We have that in common, then.” Andrew replied. 

“Hey, what day is it?” his neighbor asked suddenly. Andrew stared at him for a moment. He couldn’t be serious.

“Thursday,” he replied after he quickly got tired of his neighbor looking at him with that stupid look on his face.

“Fuck,” he said, before running into what Andrew presumed was his bedroom and letting the door slam behind him. The gray cat, who was still staring at Andrew, meowed.

“Fuck if I know,” Andrew replied.

After a few minutes, the neighbor returned, trying, in vain, to run a comb through his hair. Now he was dressed in a fitted, black suit with a pale blue button-down underneath. 

“I’m sorry, I have to go,” he said. He pulled something that looked like cologne from the bookshelf and sprayed himself with it. “Could you do me a favor and grab the black loafers from under the couch?” 

Andrew rolled his eyes and began to look under the couch as his neighbor pulled a toothbrush and toothpaste out his pocket and began brushing his teeth over the kitchen sink. The gray cat hopped off the couch and hissed at her owner’s ankles as he walked by, searching all around the room for something,

“Not right now, Sir. Hey, have you seen my phone anywhere?” he said. Andrew didn’t even want to acknowledge the question. 

“What kind of names are King and Sir for cats, anyway?” he asked instead, pulling the shoes out from under the couch and throwing them at his neighbor with more force than necessary. His neighbor caught them nonetheless, and sat on the floor to put them on.

“Those were the names they had when I got them. I can’t just change them, that’s not my place to change someone else’s names. Names having meaning.” he said.

“And what’s your name?” Andrew asked. His neighbor smiled, like Andrew had caught him making some private joke. 

“Neil,” he said, “Neil Josten. And you?”

“Andrew,” Andrew answered, standing up and pulling Neil to his feet. 

“How do I look, Andrew?” Neil asked. 

The answer was undoubtedly “good”, but there was admittedly something wrong. He looked Neil over, and was struck above all else by how intently Neil seemed to be watching him as he did so. Something small clicked in Andrew’s head. He wasn’t sure yet if it was because Neil was a threat or paranoid, but it was clear he was trying to figure Andrew out with something a little more than polite neighborly interest. Andrew had needed to see the act in its entirety, suit, scars, and smile, to understand that’s what it was—an act. There was something about the sharpness of his eyes that told you his mind was moving a mile a minute, something about his suit looking more expensive than anything else in the apartment, something about how his smile was perfectly tailored to be inviting. Andrew was even beginning to suspect that Neil knew exactly where his phone was.

How interesting, how boring. Another liar in a sea of liars. 

“Fine,” Andrew said. “just don’t forget that you put your phone in your pocket.” 

Neil’s eyes narrowed, and his easy smile fell into something a little more guarded. He reached into his pants pocket and pulled out a small, black flip phone, not much different from Andrew’s. He tossed it to him. 

Andrew tapped two fingers to his temple in a mocking salute. 

“Better luck next time,” he said. Neil simply gave a small smile, more grim than all the others, and shook his head. He gestured for Andrew to follow him out of the apartment and down the stairs.

Andrew put in Roland’s number as they walked.

“My key’s fucked up. Fix it. Now.” he said as soon as he answered, and then he hung up without waiting for a response. When they got outside, Neil reached into a potted plant and pulled out a spare key. 

“Here,” he said, trading Andrew for his phone, “this should get you in the downstairs door. Don’t suppose you have fifty dollars I could borrow for a taxi?” 

Andrew, being reasonably sure that any money lent to Neil was money given away, and having no money to give even if he weren’t being scammed, just stared blankly at Neil.

“Worth a shot,” Neil said with a shrug. 

A taxi pulled up in front of the building, and Andrew walked closer as Roland got out and Neil got in. 

“Drew,” Roland said with a smile upon seeing him, “it’s good to see you.”

“Don’t call me that,” Andrew said in place of a greeting. Neil looked between the two of them from where he was sitting in the cab. He raised an eyebrow at Andrew, as though to ask if there was trouble. Andrew rolled his eyes, so Neil shrugged. Roland was far from being any sort of threat to Andrew, although Andrew's mood was certainly not improved by his presence. 

“It was nice to meet you, Andrew,” Neil said. Andrew closed the taxi door on him in response and saw Neil smile through the window as the car drove off.

Andrew turned and went inside, Roland following behind him. 

“God, this place is a shithole. Do you want me to find you somewhere nicer?” Roland asked as they made their way up the stairs to the fourth floor. Roland held a decently high position at a major technology company based out of New York, a job he’d gotten through gross nepotism and was by no means qualified to do. His apartment was likely twice the size of Nicky’s house in Columbia.

“Fuck off,” Andrew replied. He’d meant to keep walking, but Roland caught his wrist to stop him, and Andrew instinctively turned and grabbed Roland’s arm and twisted it nearly to the point of snapping. Roland made a small, pained noise.

“Touch me without my permission again,” Andrew said lowly, “and I will break your fucking arm.” 

Then, Andrew let him go. Roland stumbled backward down a few steps before steadying himself on the handrail. 

“I just wanted to make sure you hadn’t changed your mind about our deal,” he said. Six months ago, Andrew had been working as a bartender at a nightclub in Columbia. That’s where he’d met Roland, who frequented the club while he was in the city for a few months on business. It wasn’t long before they’d started messing around. Of course, Roland was never allowed to touch Andrew aside from kissing, because no one was allowed to touch Andrew aside from occasionally Nicky or, even more occasionally, Aaron. For Andrew, it’d been a joyless fling, but when it was time for Roland to return to New York, he’d offered to pay Andrew to come with him. Of course, Andrew was to tell nobody about it. The entire arrangement was demeaning, exploitative, and likely very unhealthy.

But Andrew needed money. And Roland had offered a lot of money. 

So, Andrew had told his brother and cousin that he was going to New York to try and get hired by a publishing company. It wasn’t entirely untrue. He was still trying to write, hoping he could get something new published sooner rather than later.

“I’m here, aren’t I?” Andrew said finally. 

“Thank you,” Roland said as they arrived at the door to Andrew’s apartment. “I appreciate your presence and your discretion.” 

“I need a new phone,” Andrew said in place of a response. He unlocked the door and pushed inside. Roland followed him in, which, Andrew supposed, meant he would have to wait to unpack. Which was fine, especially since Andrew ended the evening with significantly more money than he’d started it with, and a promise of a new phone the next day. 

That night, Andrew was woken up by a muffled banging sound. “Woken up” may have been too gentle of a term. Really, he’d been jerked violently from his dreamless sleep and thrown haphazardly into the waking world, poised to gut whoever was nearest to him. He’d known better than to fall asleep in an unfamiliar place without the light on, but it did little to make those first few seconds of confusion any less horrible. He closed his eyes and started to count down from one hundred out loud. He was all the way to 43 when he finally got a hold on where he was and what was happening. It didn’t seem to matter how many years passed on without incident, no matter how dangerous and disconnected he made himself. In these quick moments of uncertainty, fear always proved itself to be Andrew’s oldest and loyalist companion.

Andrew opened his eyes, adrenaline fading into annoyance at being woken up in the middle of the night. He slipped the knife that had, through muscle memory, found its way into his hand back in its sheath on his armbands.

The sound, he realized, was someone banging on the door of one of the other apartments. 

“Come on, baby,” a clearly drunk man was shouting, “don’t leave me now! Don’t you fucking cheat me, baby!”

He supposed that was cause for some alarm. Andrew put on his glasses and slid out of bed, if only to tell the man to shut the fuck up. Before he could stand, though, Andrew heard the light sound of someone tapping on his window. He crossed the room and pulled back the curtain to reveal Neil, the neighbor he’d met earlier, crouched on the fire escape outside his window. He was wearing the same suit he’d had on earlier, although it was slightly more rumpled.

To Andrew’s credit, he did deeply, seriously consider closing the curtain and going back to bed. Somewhere downstairs, he heard the man shouting. Andrew opened the window.

“Hello again,” Neil said, his breath fogging where the late September night air began to turn sharp, “I’m Neil. We met earlier.”

“I’m aware,” Andrew replied. “Do you know anything about the man yelling downstairs?” 

“Oh, yes. I’m the one he’s yelling at. I don’t think he’s realized that I climbed out the window. He’ll give up eventually, they usually do. Can I come in?”

“Fine. Just until he leaves.”

Neil smiled gratefully and climbed through the window. 

“Did I wake you up?” he asked.

“You didn’t. He did.”

“I’m sorry,” Neil said, closing the window behind him, “he’s very drunk, and a rat bastard. I shouldn’t have let him get into the cab with me, but he was insistent.” Neil casually made his way to Andrew’s desk, and Andrew watched his eyes fall on the cash Roland had left.

“Do you want me to just make him leave?” Andrew offered.

“Thank you, but I don’t think it’s worth the trouble. Unless, of course, you want me out of your hair that badly,” he said with a small smile. Part of Andrew wanted to go back to bed, but then again it wasn’t like he had anywhere to be tomorrow. Anyway, Neil’s presence was, so far, slightly more entertaining than annoying. Andrew sat down on his bed.

“How do you know Roland Warner?” Neil asked next, as though he could read Andrew’s mind and was determined to change it.

“I should ask you the same,”

“I asked you first.” 

Andrew gave a half-shrug in response. “I met him while he was staying in Columbia, and when I decided to move to New York, we kept in touch.” It wasn’t a lie. “Your turn.”

Neil smiled knowingly. 

“He’s been to a couple parties at my place,” he explained, “but it’s been a while. I don’t think he recognized me. By the way, I’m in no position to judge anybody.” 

With every passing second, Andrew was more and more tempted to throw Neil back out the window. Obviously, he was smarter than he looked, dangerously so. Although, Andrew wondered if it was possible that Roland was simply dumber than he looked, and had made himself a reputation. Andrew opted to ignore Neil’s accusation in favor of making one of his own. 

“Is that all you do? Sleep until 4pm, go out with questionable men, bother your neighbors, and throw wild parties?” 

Neil smiled again, a little more sharply. Andrew wondered what it would take for Neil to drop the mask of carefree, easy charm entirely. He wondered what would be underneath. The thought passed quickly, however, because it really didn’t matter and Andrew couldn’t be bothered to care anyway.

“I’m also a waiter, and I run, and sometimes I even play the guitar,” Neil said.

“Congratulations,” Andrew replied flatly. “And, to think, I always heard people in New York never get to know their neighbors.”

“They usually don’t. Congratulations on being the exception.”

“Do you believe in fate?” Andrew asked through a yawn. Neil tilted his head to the side, just a bit.

“No,” he said.

“Luck, then?”

“Only the bad sort.”

“That must be what this is, then,” Andrew said, and Neil made a sound that might have been a laugh.

“And what is it that you do, Andrew?” he asked.

“I’m a writer.”

“Interesting. The only writer I’ve ever been out with was Steven Kilmack.”

“I don’t know who that is.”

“How fortunate for you. He’s written some things for television, but he is absolutely insufferable. Condescending, self-absorbed, entitled, and, worst of all, persistent.”

“Have you ever considered that you might have very poor taste, Neil?” Andrew asked, and Neil smiled. This time, there were teeth, and Andrew got the distinct impression that he was getting closer to something that might be considered genuine.

“All the time. Tell me, Andrew, are you a real writer? Like, are you published? Do people buy what you write?” 

“They bought that,” Andrew said, pointing at the stack of books on the far corner of the desk. They were several copies of the same book, extras that Andrew was hoping he could sell somewhere. Neil picked one up and sat down in the chair next to the desk.

“‘ _Nine Lives_ by A. J. Minyard’,” he read out loud. 

“They’re short horror stories,” Andrew explained.

“Interesting,” Neil said, setting the copy down on the desk, “tell me one.”

“Once upon a time,” Andrew began, “there was a very foolish young man. One night, he woke up his neighbor by knocking on his window. The neighbor let him inside. What the young man didn’t know, however, was that his neighbor was secretly a serial killer. The young man was never heard from again. The end.” 

Neil leaned back in the chair, looking more amused than anything else.

“Are you open to criticism?” he asked.

“No.” 

“It just wasn’t very scary,” Neil continued anyway. “Very cliche. I mean, it’s hardly-” Neil picked up the book again, examining the reviews on the back cover, “-‘angry’, ‘sensitive’, ‘tensely-felt’, or ‘promising’. I’m disappointed.”

“I’m deeply wounded,” Andrew assured him. “I don’t hear your date anymore.”

“No,” Neil agreed, “I think it’s safe to say he either went home or fell asleep outside my door. Either way, I can let you go back to bed now. By the way, I’m taking this with me,” and he held up Andrew’s book. Andrew made a noncommittal gesture that was neither approval nor disapproval, which Neil responded to by standing, book in hand, and heading back to the window. Andrew stood and followed him.

“Thank you, again,” Neil said as he opened the window. The cold night air took Andrew by surprise. 

“As long as it doesn’t become a habit,” he replied. Neil climbed out through the window.

“I’m having a party tomorrow evening,” he said before Andrew could shut him out, “you should stop by. You can even bring Roland Warner, if you want.”

“I don’t,” Andrew said, and Neil smiled.

“Come by yourself, then. There will be plenty of people there, and although I’m afraid most of them will be insufferable, a few of them, I can say, will be quite wonderful.”

“We’ll see,” Andrew replied, which apparently satisfied Neil.

“Goodnight, Andrew,” he said, and then he disappeared down the fire escape. 

Andrew shut the window and went back to bed.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Against his better judgement, Andrew attends a party.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I know it's literally been months since I updated this and I apologize, but better late than never. Thank you to everyone who left nice comments on the first chapter, it's really encouraging and makes continuing so much easier.

Against all better judgement, the next evening Andrew found himself outside of Neil’s apartment. It was only ten, and already the noise coming from inside the apartment promised a deeply unpleasant amount of people. 

“Hey!” a voice called, but not from inside. Andrew took a step backwards from the door and looked up. The apartment complex was set up in a sort of ring, with a staircase in the middle. From any spot, you could look over the balcony and see all the way up or all the way down. About four floors above him, a man, presumably the one that had yelled, was looking down at Andrew. It was hard to make out the details of the man from the awkward angle, but he appeared to be a tall, athletic type with dark hair. 

“Yes?” Andrew said.

“Are you a friend of Josten’s?” the man said accusatorily.

“No.”

“Well, tell him to shut the fuck up anyway. He’s not the only person who lives in this building, you know.” Andrew did, in fact, know. He was beginning to suspect that Neil Josten had managed to make himself a nuisance to all of his neighbors, and not just Andrew.

“I’ll pass along the message,” Andrew assured the man, who grumbled something in response before walking away. A few seconds later, Andrew heard the door slam. 

Andrew turned back to Neil’s door and knocked.

Nothing happened.

He knocked again. After a minute, the door swung open to reveal yet another tall, dark-haired man. While Andrew’s upstairs neighbor had been dressed in athletic clothes and tennis shoes, however, the man at the door was dressed in a sleek black suit that didn’t seem like it should be on a person who answers other people’s doors. He was a strange fit for the party that was raging in the apartment behind him. Andrew could see dozens upon dozens of people dressed in brightly-colored, expensive clothes, making fools of themselves and drinking like the world was ending. The man at the door was a dark cloud towering above it all, serious and calculating. He looked Andrew over with sharp gray eyes. Most notably, the man had a tattoo beneath his left eye, which depicted the roman numeral III in dark, black ink.

“You knocked,” he said as though he was telling Andrew something new. He had a touch of what seemed to be, to Andrew at least, a french accent. 

“That’s usually what people do before entering someone else’s home,” Andrew answered flatly.

The man gave a small, unfriendly smile. Andrew couldn’t tell if it was unfriendly on purpose, or simply made to seem that way due to the man’s entire countenance

“People don’t knock here,” he said.

“Well, maybe they should.”

“Maybe they should,” the man agreed. “My name is Jean Moreau.”

“Andrew. Can I go inside now, or do I have to answer a fucking riddle?” 

Jean smiled as though Andrew had just paid him a genuine compliment. He stepped aside to let Andrew in. Andrew pushed passed him and Jean shut the door behind him. Inside the apartment, people were packed wall to wall talking, drinking, and dancing. The place was insanely warm and stunk of alcohol and tobacco. In the far end of the apartment was the kitchenette where Neil had brushed his teeth the day before, but now the whole area was set up as a bar. Andrew figured that if he didn’t get some alcohol in him soon, he would either go home or commit a felony, so he set off in that direction. He had a difficult time maneuvering through the crowd without touching anyone. At one point, he had to elbow his way between a red-faced man and a woman whose dress Andrew was positive was both too short and too green to be legal. She swore at him, but Andrew ignored her in favor of reaching the bar without having a panic attack. 

Fuck this stupid party, he didn’t know why he was here. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. The truth was, Andrew was completely alone in a new city with no real job or direction aside from being a boytoy to an idiotic trust-fund kid who forgot to grow up. In Columbia, Andrew had his job at Edens to keep him stable, and he had Nicky and Aaron to keep him sane. His relationships with his brother and cousin were still on the mend, and likely would be for a very, very long time, but they were something. Andrew had come to this stupid party because, as much as he hated to admit it, sitting in his apartment all day everyday was a depressive episode waiting to happen. It wasn’t as if he expected to, God forbid, enjoy himself in the company of others. He just needed to give the oppressive boredom something that wasn’t his leg to chew on every once in a while. So, party. 

Andrew made himself a drink and found himself a corner to stand in. 

On top of everything, there was also Neil. Neil, who was annoying and pretty and pretty annoying. Neil, who climbed into people’s windows in the middle of the night and asked invasive questions. Neil, who slept til 4pm, went out with questionable men, bothered his neighbors, threw wild parties, ran, played guitar, and worked as a waiter. Neil, who lied about his phone and was too smart for his own good, and maybe everyone else’s as well. Andrew would get bored of him too, eventually, but for now he was willing to indulge the distraction.   
What a strange party this was. Dozens of people who looked like they had more money than they knew what to do with crammed into a shitty apartment on the wrong side of town, and for what? Andrew didn’t know. Maybe it was a cheap thrill for them, to hide away in some decaying apartment complex. Maybe they found it an exciting taboo, living like the other half, pretending to be someone they weren’t. It seemed like everyone in the room was putting on a show in some way or another.

It wasn’t long before Jean found him again. He leaned against the wall next to Andrew, keeping his distance well enough.

“What are you doing here?” he asked. Andrew wondered if Jean only knew how to ask stupid questions. 

“What are you, a cop?” 

Jean smiled, as though it were funny in more ways than Andrew knew. He was getting very tired of the stupid secrets around here.

“No,” Jean said, “not a cop. How do you know Neil?” 

“He broke into my apartment,” Andrew said flatly.

“Yes, he does that sometimes.”

“You?” Andrew asked, not because he cared, but because he just wanted one person he met in New York to say one thing that made even a little bit of sense. Apparently that was asking for too much, though, because Jean simply replied,

“It’s not the sort of story anyone wants to hear at a party.” 

“Wonderful,” Andrew said, giving up.

As if on cue, Neil finally materialized within the crowd. He was walking, arms linked with an older man who was talking a mile a minute. Neil, who was dressed in the same suit he’d thrown on the other night, was smiling at the man and nodding intently. When he caught sight of Andrew and Jean, his charming smile shrunk into something sharper and more genuine as he nodded to them. Once he and his companion had passed, Neil turned back to Andrew and Jean and mimed blowing his brains out behind the man’s back, only to quickly turn again to laugh at something the man said. 

Andrew felt himself smile, just a little, and he quickly snuffed it out with the rest of his drink. Jean, however, was staring grimly at the spot where Neil had once again disappeared into the crowd. 

“He’s a conman, isn’t he?” Andrew said. Jean gave a half shrug.

“You could say that,” he said.

“Well, what would you say?” 

Jean took a sip of his drink.

“He’s desperate,” he said quietly.

“For what?”

“Do you know what you are, Andrew?” Jean asked out of nowhere. Andrew blinked.

“Is that rhetorical, or are you actually asking?”

“You’re honest,” he continued as though he hadn’t heard him. “And that’s why you don’t fit here.”

Andrew considered leaving to get another drink without a word. He really, really considered it. He was sick of all the cryptic bullshit.

“Thanks for the analysis,” he said instead, but Jean shook his head.

“It’s a compliment, trust me. Here’s what you should do: you should leave right now and never come back here again. It’s going to be a tragedy no matter how it plays out, there’s no reason for you to be stuck here watching like the rest of us.” 

Andrew wasn’t stupid. Neil looked like someone had thrown him through a meat grinder, and, beneath the scars and the smiles, like he was always thinking about the closest exit. He knew there was likely some sort of nasty business surrounding his neighbor, he didn’t need the melodrama. 

“Who’s he running from?” Andrew ventured, and judging by the way Jean’s head snapped to him, he wasn’t far off. He caught another glimpse of Neil in the crowd of people. An extravagantly dressed woman had her hand on his shoulder and was, rather insistently, handing him a drink that, if Andrew had to guess, likely had more alcohol in it than it seemed. Or worse, something else. Andrew poised himself to intervene if necessary. Neil took the glass gratefully and took a sip, but the moment the woman looked away he spit it into the cup of some other drunk, oblivious party guest. It was a small relief to Andrew, to know that he was not alone in his overwhelming distrust in the intentions of others.

“No one, anymore,” Jean said, as though it were the worst possible answer. Andrew was ready to grab Jean by the shoulders and shake a straight answer out of him, when he heard someone call his name.   
“Andrew!” the voice called again, and Renee fucking Walker emerged from the crowd. Because why not. 

Her hair was longer than the last time Andrew had seen her, but it was still dyed white with an array of pastels on the ends. Andrew was mildly impressed, it seemed like a difficult look to keep up for so many years. She was wearing a long, deep purple dress that, while still clearly expensive, looked much more modest than just about any other article in the room aside from Andrew’s ratty leather jacket.

“Renee,” Andrew said as she stepped between him and Jean. Renee knew about Andrew’s dislike of unnecessary physical contact, but she still looked like she wanted to hug him. In all honesty, Andrew was relieved to see her to say the least. He briefly wondered if he was hallucinating, his brain so starved for someone reasonable to talk to he’d manifested her like a desert traveler seeing an oasis. The thought quickly passed, however, when she linked her arm in Jean’s.

“You two know each other?” Jean asked, seeming genuinely surprised. Andrew nodded.

“Andrew and I went to college together,” she said with a smile. It was a much-appreciated understatement.

Really, she was the closest friend he’d ever had. It had been Renee who’d kept him in one piece during Aaron’s trial, who’d convinced him not to drop out, who’d introduced him to the therapist he still sees. Or, saw, anyway. Before he moved. 

Renee knew more about Andrew Minyard than just about anyone, which might have been why he stopped speaking to her after graduation. It had been a few years ago, back when Andrew had convinced himself that any sort of emotional vulnerability was a one way ticket to abject misery. In his defense, the vast majority of his experiences up to that point had supported his stance. Still, he was a lot better about those sort of things now; or at least he was trying to be better. 

“What are you doing here?” Renee asked. Andrew gave her a small smile.

“Nothing good,” he promised, and Renee laughed.

“Naturally.”

“What about you? This doesn’t really seem like your scene,” Andrew pointed out. He supposed he was in no real position to say what was or wasn’t Renee’s scene anymore, but surely a person couldn’t change that much in such a short amount of time. 

“No, it isn’t,” Renee agreed, “but my wife, on the other hand, is a different story entirely.”

Andrew raised an eyebrow. 

“Wife?”

Renee scanned the crowd, likely for the wife in question.

“Yes,” she said, “I’m sure she’ll turn up eventually.”

“She’ll either love or hate you,” Jean added, “it’s hard to know with Allison.”

From seemingly nowhere, Neil appeared next to Renee, who smiled and quickly pulled him into a hug.

“What happened to your friend?” Jean asked, and Neil shrugged.

“I see you two have met my new friend Andrew,” he said instead. Renee put her hand on Neil’s shoulder.

“I’m sorry to tell you, Neil, but I’m afraid Andrew was my friend first.” Neil raised an eyebrow at Andrew, as if asking for his confirmation.

“We went to college together,” Andrew explained. Neil’s eyes narrowed, just slightly. Andrew held his gaze without hesitation. He wondered what Neil was looking for. Andrew tilted his head slightly.

“Our neighbor upstairs told me to tell you to ‘shut the fuck up’, and that ‘you’re not the only person who lives in this building’, by the way,” Andrew said. Neil was smiling again in an instant.

“Oh, that’s just Kevin, he hates me.”

“Well, I guess we have that in common,” Andrew said, and Neil smiled the same way he had when Andrew’d caught him lying about his phone. It occurred to him that, perhaps, Neil Josten was the most dangerous person in this room. Despite being broke and in his mid twenties, he seemed to have every person here under his thumb, save Renee, Jean, and Andrew.

“Andrew’s a writer, Renee, you ought to hire him to help Allison write her autobiography,” Neil said.

“She gave up on that a few months ago, she’s into sculpting now.” 

“Pity,” Neil shook his head, “he’s very good.” 

“Fuck,” Jean said suddenly, grabbing Neil’s arm nodding to the door. Neil followed his gaze and immediately went pale.

“Fuck,” he agreed. Andrew looked over to where a man had just walked in. There was nothing particularly remarkable about him at all, except that, under his left eye there was a tattoo in the same place as Jean’s. It was the silhouette of a bird of some sort. A raven.

Renee’s face had gone dark as well. 

“Do you by any chance still have those knives I gave you?” she said lowly, so that only Andrew could hear. Andrew immediately unsheathed one from his armbands and held it so she could see.

“No Renee, what kind of insane person brings knives to a party at a stranger’s apartment?” he whispered. “Who is that?”

“That,” Neil interrupted grimly, “is someone you’d be lucky to never have to speak to in your life.” 

“You should hide, Neil,” Jean said, but Neil only clenched his jaw in response. Renee relinked her arm with Jean’s.

“He’s right,” she said, “we’ll make him leave, but it’s best he doesn’t see you.” Jean looked ready to pass out. Neil gestured to the party around them.

“There isn’t exactly anywhere to hide,” he said. The man had caught sight of them now, and began making his way through the crowd toward them. 

Most of the time, Andrew felt nothing. Years and years of misery had hollowed him out and left him indifferent. And yet, Andrew was nothing if not stubborn. He’d spent the better part of the last decade on the painstaking and tedious task of piecing himself back together. The result was an admittedly imperfect portrait, but it was better than nothing. It was better, he knew, than being dead. Most of the time, Andrew felt nothing, but not all of the time. A lot of the time, he felt things as though he were seeing them through a fogged glass door. Sometimes, he would go so long without feeling anything at all that he could barely imagine what something had felt like. But the one thing that he could never forget was fear. Even at the times in his life when he’d been the most empty, fear had always been within arms reach. Back then, he would stand on rooftops and look down, just to get his heart rate up enough to convince himself he was still alive. 

Andrew knew fear, he knew it well. He could see it in the death grip Jean had on Renee’s arm. He could see it in the way Neil smiled easily at one of his guests as his eyes darted across the room, searching for a way out. He was a rabbit, frozen in place and poised to run at any moment.

“We can take the fire escape to my apartment,” Andrew said finally. Neil nodded and immediately took off through the crowd toward the bedroom where the window was. Andrew followed close behind him. He swore if anymore people tried to cram into this room the floor would cave in. As they pushed their way through, Andrew caught a glimpse of the man with the raven tattoo heading toward them. He was intercepted by Jean and Renee, and though he tried to push past them, the thickness of the crowd made it so there were only so many ways he could go. Still, Andrew moved a little faster. Suddenly, Neil stumbled to the side. A man who appeared to be wildly intoxicated had caught Neil and wrapped a long arm around his waist. Neil appeared to be calmly assessing the situation, but Andrew didn’t have the patience for that. He grabbed the man’s wrist and wrenched his arm back. Neil slipped out of his grip easily, and the man let out a pained yelp that was drowned out by the chatter and music of the party. 

They finally made it to the bedroom, and opened the door to find a handful of people doing what appeared to be cocaine. Neil pushed past them with a friendly and laughably insincere smile, and slid open the window. 

The cold night air was a sweet relief from the heat of the party. Andrew climbed out behind Neil and slid the window shut behind them. It felt like leaving one world and going to another. The loud cacophony of talk and laughter was replaced with the sounds of traffic far below them. The night felt infinite compared to Neil’s claustrophobic apartment. They climbed the fire escape to the landing in front of Andrew’s window.

“Would you mind if we just sat out here for a minute?” Neil said. “It’s nice, quiet.”

Andrew nodded and sat down with his back against the wall. He pulled out his pack of cigarettes and lit one. The first drag was a welcome relief. He didn’t realize how stressed out he’d been, in that room with so many people all around him. He decided that he hated parties, officially. 

Neil sat down next to him, although he kept a few feet between them, which Andrew was grateful for. He’d had enough physical contact to last him the month at least.

“Thank you,” Neil said after a minute, “I don’t know what I would have done.”

“At which point?” Andrew asked, and Neil shrugged.

“All of them, I guess. Tonight was...less a disaster than it would have been if you had not been there.”

“Gee, thanks,” Andrew said flatly. He went to take another drag from his cigarette, but Neil stole it from between his fingers before he could. Andrew was too tired to do much about it besides glare. He had no idea what about him could have possibly encouraged this sort of behavior, but Neil smiled privately and took a drag anyway.

“What did you think of my party?” he asked.

“Awful,” Andrew assured him and Neil nodded.

“I’m afraid there isn’t much variation,” he admitted. Andrew took his cigarette back.

“So is it always the same people, or do they all eventually realize you’re stealing from them and you have to find a new crowd?” 

Neil smiled, and Andrew tried not to look for too long. What did the people downstairs see when they looked at him? Did they see the pretty little package of charm and wit, made sweeter by the hints of mystery and misery that surrounded him? Or did they even get past the blue eyes that were so distracting, you didn’t even realize he’d taken your wallet? Whatever the case, Andrew made up his mind that he wouldn’t fall for it. He would not end up another sucker in the palm of Neil Josten’s hand.

“Some old, some new.” Neil said, “You’re one of the few people I’ve actually invited in a long time. Everyone else was there because they wanted to be. I think they like the thrill of partying in a shitty old apartment building, having their wallet stolen is just part of the charm.”

“You sound like you don’t like them very much,” Andrew said, and Neil’s expression shifted into something more sober.

“I hate them,” he said, “I mean, Jean, and Renee, and Allison, and a few others, they’re great. They’re my friends. But the rest of them, I can’t stand.”

“Then why do it?” 

Neil just looked at him for a minute. He looked exhausted. He looked how Andrew felt. Andrew nodded and took a drag of his cigarette.

“Alright,” he said, “stupid question, I guess.”

“What about you?” Neil asked, “Why Roland Warner? He’s an idiot. I started your book; you’re an excellent writer, you could easily find a decent job.” Andrew grinded his teeth together. Somewhere a few blocks down, someone was setting off fireworks, likely illegally. Every so often, one would peek up over the buildings and fill the sky with a blue light. 

“A decent job doesn’t pay as much.”

“What are you paying for?” Neil asked quietly. Another firework went off. Somewhere, police sirens wailed. Somewhere else, a dog was barking. People always said life goes on, as though it were some sort of comfort. To Andrew, it always seemed like a cruel thing for life to do in its worst moments. It was like those people downstairs, partying and drinking themselves into oblivion as though the world wasn’t filled with horrible things that their money could easily fix if they could actually be bothered to give a shit. It was, admittedly, a bitter thought. The world didn’t have to stop every time someone’s life fell apart, Andrew just thought it ought to every once in a while. 

“My brother is in med school right now,” he said, unsure why he was telling Neil anything. Maybe it was because seeing Renee again had gotten him thinking about vulnerability and not freezing people out. Maybe he was just a sucker after all. 

“He must be smart,” Neil said.

“He is. But it’s expensive, and on top of that, he got into some,” Andrew chose his words carefully, “legal trouble a few years ago. We won the case, but lawyers are expensive, and so now we owe a lot of people a lot of money.”

Neil was quiet for a moment.

“What did he do?” he asked, finally. Andrew saw no point in lying.

“He killed someone,” he said. Andrew watched Neil out of the corner of his eye, but he didn’t react how he’d expected. He didn’t seem shocked, or concerned, like most people would. He’d just accepted Andrew’s statement as a fact.

“Did they deserve it?” he asked. Andrew wondered what the “healthy” answer was. There probably wasn’t one. He settled for the truth.

“Yes.”

Neil nodded.

“I really like your book so far, Andrew. I don’t usually like books, and I would tell you if I didn’t because you don’t have any money, and so I have no reason to lie to you. I think maybe I like it so much because you write the way you act,” he said.

“How’s that?”

“Honest.” Andrew shook his head.

“Why does everyone keep saying that?” 

“Who else said that?”

“Jean.” Neil gave a small laugh in response.

“Well,” he said, “Jean is a good judge of character. He’s spent a lot of time around the worst kind of people.”

“Like you?” Andrew asked, but his mind went back to the way Jean had paled when the man with the raven tattoo had shown up. Neil shrugged in response.

“I guess it depends on who you ask,” he said. Andrew scoffed. Down below them, people from the party had begun to file out the front door.

“It looks like Allison finally kicked everyone out. That’s usually her job,” Neil said. Andrew hummed in response. One figure on the ground stood out. In the sea of people moving away from the complex, he was the only one not moving, facing the building. He seemed to be staring up at Andrew and Neil. Andrew recognized the man with the tattoo. Neil was locked in a silent staring contest with him, and his glare was filled with a bone-deep hatred. Andrew flicked his cigarette off the balcony toward him, and although it landed nowhere near the man, the dismissive gesture was enough to break the tension. He smiled coldly before turning to walk away. Long after he was out of sight, Neil’s eyes stayed fixed on where he’d been, as though if he focused hard enough he could kill the man with sheer willpower.

Eventually, Andrew stood up. 

“I’m going to bed,” he announced. “If it’s easier than dealing with stragglers, I have a terrible, disgusting couch you can crash on.” Neil blinked, as though he’d been in a trance. He stood up.

“No, thank you,” he said, “but stragglers are how I pay my rent.”

“Whatever, Robin Hood,” Andrew yawned, “you have fun with that.”

Neil smiled, and started down the fire escape. Andrew turned to go inside.

“Andrew?” Neil called after a moment, and Andrew turned around.

“What?”

“Thank you, for everything. Goodnight.” 

Neil tapped two fingers to his temple, mimicking Andrew’s salute from their first meeting. 

Andrew rolled his eyes, and climbed back into his apartment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> idk why but I am obsessed with the idea that in this universe kevin is just, like, a normal guy. like i want to make it abundantly clear that kevin is just some dude who lives in their apartment complex. honestly, he deserves some Rest. please let me know what you think of the chapter and whether or not i should keep updating!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sleeping in a new place always takes some getting used to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello! this is a really short chapter that's mostly fluff (???? they talk about murder, its fluff for them). i was gonna make this part of a longer chapter, but idk when im gonna get around to it so i thought i'd just post what i have.  
> trigger warnings are at the end of the chapter.  
> enjoy!

The worst thing about violence was the way it made itself comfortable. It would come inside and take a seat and call everyone by their first names. Everyone would get used to it being there, he would become part of the routine of daily life. Then, one day, it would leave. And everyone would stare at the place it once was and wonder, wonder, wonder, how on Earth they all lived with it for so long. 

The first time Andrew had seen someone die, he was struck, more than anything by the quiet that came afterwards. There had been screaming, the sound of metal crunching and collapsing in on itself, glass shattering as his mother flew through the windshield. Then, there had been nothing but the smell of blood and petrol and something burning. Quiet. Andrew had gotten into that car fully prepared to die, and it was so quiet that, for a moment, he’d thought he had.

The second time Andrew had seen someone die, there had also been screaming. He didn’t think he had screamed, although it was possible he had. Aaron definitely had. Drake had, too. And then, again, there was the quiet. That horrible moment when you realize that violence has left the room, and you’re all alone, wondering how you managed to stay conscious in the face of something so awful, wondering when it’ll be back. 

Andrew woke up with the sound of screaming ringing in his ears. The room was quiet, that awful quiet, and Andrew couldn’t bring himself to even move for fear of breaking it at first. Nightmares were an old hat, though, and so Andrew pushed up onto his elbows and forced himself to breathe. It wasn’t enough. It was still too quiet. Andrew could see every last dark corner, every last bit of his dreams as if he were still asleep. 

Then, there was music.

It would be annoying, someone outside messing around with a guitar at God knows what hour. At present, however, it was a welcome distraction. It was just a few chords, nothing specific as far as Andrew could tell, but he listened until it was the only thing left to listen to. He listened until his heart no longer felt like a climb up his throat and claw its way out of his mouth. 

He forced himself out of bed, turning on the lamp and putting on his glasses. He grabbed a pack of cigarettes and his lighter before making his way to the fire escape. He climbed out the window and was only mildly surprised to find Neil sitting out in front of his own window, picking at a beat up guitar. 

“I’m surprised Kevin hasn’t confiscated that thing from you,” he called down to Neil, leaning forward on the rail. Neil looked up at the sound of his voice and gave a small smile when he saw Andrew. It had been a few days since the party, and still Andrew was taken aback at how very different Neil looked now to how he had then. He looked closer to how he had when Andrew had first met him, with his hair unstyled and his clothes old and wrinkled. Then, he had been watching Andrew closely, putting on a show of charming aloofness. Now, he just seemed tired. He was backlit by the soft, white light shining out from inside his apartment, but even from where he was Andrew could see the dark circles under his eyes. 

“He doesn’t usually hear me as long as I play outside,” he responded. Andrew lit his cigarette.

“Well, isn’t he lucky.”

“Did I wake you, Andrew?” Neil asked. 

Andrew just shook his head. 

“No dates tonight?” he said instead, hoping to change the subject. He didn’t want to think about what had woken him up.

“Not unless you wanna get out of here with me,” Neil answered lightly.

Andrew raised an eyebrow. It was possible that Neil was joking, but judging by the way he watched for Andrew’s response, it didn’t seem likely. 

The short answer was a resounding and astoundingly stupid yes. Andrew knew that Neil was dangerous, he could see it on every inch of him. Moreover, he was a conman. He made his way through the world by smiling and lying and stealing and then smiling again. But Andrew needed a distraction from himself, and there it was. And anyway, he was broke and Neil knew that. 

“For how long?” he asked finally. Andrew didn’t have his phone with him, but if he had to take a guess it was around 2AM. Neil leaned back against the building and closed his eyes.

“I’d say forever,” he answered, “but then we would leave poor Kevin here all by himself.”

“He would be so lost without you,” Andrew agreed.

“Exactly,” Neil said with a small smile, “and so I guess I’ll have to settle for an hour or two of your time instead.”

Andrew took a drag of his cigarette. When he exhaled, he watched the small cloud fill the air and dissipate as though it had never been anything at all.  
“Fine,” he said. 

They ended up walking until they came to a place that was open. It was a greasy 24/7 dinner, that sort of place that was all fluorescent lights, vinyl seats, and chrome everything else, and nothing on the menu was over fifteen dollars. They sat in a booth in the back corner where Andrew’s back was to the wall, and Neil could see out the window and keep track of every person that walked by. He’d never said that was what he was doing, but it wasn’t exactly hard to figure out. 

“I asked Renee about you,” Neil said as Andrew dumped the fourth packet of sugar into his coffee. 

“What did she say?”

“She said that she couldn’t decide if our being friends was the best or the worst thing that could happen to either one of us,” he answered. Andrew scoffed.

“Are we friends now? I don’t think I agreed to this,” he said. Neil smiled.

“I guess I’ll let you know when Renee makes up her mind,” he answered before taking a sip of his own coffee. Andrew never understood how people could drink their coffee black. Maybe Neil was secretly a serial killer in addition to being a conman. “It’s something I’ve gotten into the habit of lately. Having friends, I mean.”

“How has that been going for you?”

Neil tilted his head in thought for a moment.

“It’s nice,” he said, “to have someone else’s problems to think about every once in a while. But it’s also terrifying to know someone somewhere has even a piece of you in their hand, and could hurt you very badly if they so wished. I can’t always bring myself to trust them, even when I probably ought to.”

Andrew nodded. He understood. It was why he’d stopped speaking to Renee, who was easily the closest friend he’d ever had. He wondered what she’d meant, about him and Neil. He would have to find some way to ask her. 

“And yet you’re here with me, a stranger, at some diner in the middle of the night,” Andrew pointed out. Neil shrugged.

“Are you planning to kill me?” he asked.

“Not at the moment, but things change,” Andrew said. Neil set his elbows on the table and rested his chin on his hands. Andrew noticed, for the first time, that his hands were covered in the same slashes and burns as his face. He hadn’t seen Neil’s arms, but that only made him even more willing to bet that the mess went further up.

“How would you do it? Kill me, I mean?” 

“Do you ask all your dates that?”

Neil smiled.

“I can usually figure it out for myself. It’s a good skill to have, being able to read that sort of thing on someone. It comes in handy to be prepared. You, though, I’m not too sure about. The suspense is really eating me.”

Andrew couldn’t figure out what sort of lifetime could lead a person to be so paranoid and yet so casual about it. He remembered the party, watching Neil swim in a sea of sharks. He wondered if they knew that Neil was watching their every move, trying to figure out when they might bite. He wondered if they saw the heavy fear that hung over every move he made, the bags under his eyes, or the steady defiance—Andrew didn’t know what against what, maybe the sharks, maybe something else—that ran beneath it all. Andrew wondered about the man with the bird tattoo, the one Neil had been so afraid of, and yet stared down from the fire escape. 

He slipped a knife out from underneath his armbands and held it out for Neil to see. Neil let out a single, surprised laugh.

“I should’ve guessed,” he said, “practical and straightforward. I bet you’d make quick work, too. No need for theatrics. Would you even tell me why you were doing it?”

“You’d know,” Andrew assured him, slipping the knife back beneath his armbands. He didn’t miss the way Neil’s eyes followed it until it was gone. Coupled with the mess on his face and hands, it wasn’t hard to put two and two together. 

“A man of principle, too. Fuck, Andrew, I think I might be in love with you,” Neil said dryly.

“That’s not my problem,” Andrew replied, and Neil laughed. It was a real, solid laugh that came from the real person that was hiding under the layers of lies that made up Neil Josten, and Andrew wondered, wondered, wondered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> trigger warnings: nightmares, mentions of a car crash, blood mention. i think that's everything but lmk if there's anything else i should include.
> 
> allison: so how did it go  
> neil: i asked him how he would murder me and then i told him i was in love with him its ok tho i played it off as a joke  
> allison: ..... huh.
> 
> anyway, sorry this is so short! lmk what you think tho, I need that positive affirmation im a fiend for it

**Author's Note:**

> I was bored and just wanted to get this out of my head. I don't know if I'll finish it, please lmk if I should! Thank you for reading!


End file.
